black snow
by Avindara Nirvene
Summary: .::written for the Blackest Night Challenge::. It is the blackest night tonight, of all nights - and it just had to be Christmas. Narcissa, Andromeda, Bellatrix, Sirius, Regulus. Fiveshot.
1. the other path

**to** my _steamed_** red** fish: a bucket of **love** & _good wishes_ and a sad story.

_I shall be telling this with a sigh somewhere ages and ages hence: Two roads diverged in a wood, and I - I took the one less traveled by, and that has made all the difference. -Robert Frost_

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**_the other path_**

_The blackest night shall darken all souls, shall be the puppeteer of every good heart. All shall welcome oblivion, at the very end; it will be a mercy from the eternal hell of purest evil._

Those are the words that came to her that very night – once Lucius had slammed the door on his way out (she had begged him to stay) again, and probably would come back drunk and dizzy once more – or perhaps not return at all. Every syllable sounds clearly in her head – as though it were only yesterday that Druella had read the fairytale book to them.

(It wasn't supposed to be this way.)

She had tried to go after him – opened the door and tried to walk out, follow him, but as a gust of biting wind swept into the mansion, she thought better of it.

(It would harm the baby resting in her stomach.)

She puts a hand to her stomach. "Dobby," she calls, and the house-elf comes dashing through the kitchen doors. "Bring me a wet cloth. And a rose tea."

"Yes, Mistress Malfoy, Dobby will get it right away, Mistress." The house-elf leaves with a bow. Narcissa lies down on the sofa by the door, waiting for her husband. She stares out the floor-to-ceiling window. It is snowing.

(It is snowing.)

_It is snowing._

_Seven-year-old Narcissa watches the snow fall – little white flakes floating downward, adding to the thick blanket of sleet upon the dirt ground. "Mummy, can I go out and see the snow?" she inquires, tugging at the hem of Druella's sleeve._

_"May," Druella says sternly._

_Cissy sighs – it is a pretty, breathy sound. "May I please go out and see the snow?" she repeats, emphasising on the first word. _

_"Ask your sister to go with you," Druella instructs, "And put on your winter clothing."_

_Cissy obliges, returning to her bedroom to find the proper wear. She remembers herself, stepping carefully over the silk carpets in her boots, toward Andromeda's room. She reaches out a fragile, bird claw-like hand, and knocks…_

Narcissa sighs – it is a weary, tired sound, and she shuts her eyes.

(Andromeda is no longer her sister, therefore she must not think about her.)

_You always try to shut her out, do you?_

A voice sounds in her head, sounding oddly like her first-year crush.

(But he's dead, Antonin killed him.)

_Do you really enjoy following after your parents' footsteps?_

Stop it, she thinks, stop questioning my life, Fabian. It's mine and I don't want any more change.

_Did you really want to break with Andi? _

"Stop it, stop it, stop it!" she screams, just as Dobby comes in with the damp cloth and tea. "Your tea, Mistress Malfoy," he mumbles, placing it on the side table and backing in a hurried retreat.

"No, no, no!" Narcissa shrieks, her beautiful face in a mess of tears, "I… am… Narcissa… Malfoy… I… am…"

_(Can't I?)_

_You could have broke free, became Mrs. Prewett._

But what good would it do, with a husband buried deep under the snow?

She ponders, and she waits. One day her Prince Charming would come, rescue her from this towering mansion… She was Rapunzel, trapped in a castle tower far far away…

(What she didn't expect was her fairytale to be Beauty and the Beast.)

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-Written for **Bonnidolle**'s (The Blackest Night) Challenge.

Disclaimer: Narcissa Black/Malfoy, Lucius Malfoy, Dobby the house-elf, Andromeda Black/Tonks, Fabian Prewett, Antonin Dolohov, and mentions of Beauty and the Beast & Shrek don't belong to me. as doesn't Robert Frost. (sniffle)

-Thank you **Rabbi & Gaby** for betaing/helping me through this :) I really appreciate it.

-and please leave a review, or else I'll borrow Huffie's pink monkeys and set them off on you ;) I've heard Marilyn Manson's afraid of them... as is Remus Lupin.

(reviewers get a choice of the previously mentioned two people: MM or RL)


	2. keys to paradise

to **cuban **sombrero gal: for _inspiration_, for frequent **readings** in my _painful writings and woes_, and for **marshmallows**&_hugs_&siriuses, I bestow upon you... _happy _**Andromeda**! (oops, spoilers...)

_As memory may be a paradise from which we cannot be driven, it may also be a hell from which we cannot escape. - John Lancaster Spalding._

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**Keys **of _Paradise_

_"The blackest night shall darken all souls, shall be the puppeteer of every good heart. All shall welcome oblivion, at the very end; it will be a mercy from the eternal hell of purest evil." _Andromeda reads, her voice a little whisper at the very end, so seven-year-old Nymphadora Tonks has to strain to hear the last few words.

"You said hell!" she accuses her mother.

"So did you," Andromeda smiles gently, but it wavers slightly. "Time for bed. If you don't go to sleep now, Santa Clause won't come."

"Good night," Dora said quickly, too quickly for Andromeda's comfort. She stared suspiciously at her daughter, whose hair turns a pale, whitish blonde.

"Good night, then," she answers, and tucks her daughter in bed, kissing her forehead and turning off the lights.

Back in her room, lying alone on the queen-sized bed (Ted is still at work), she watches the snow fall, in small slivers, ice sliding down the glass-paned window in little washes.

(It's so beautiful.)

_She is eleven, and lying on a single bed, Black-crested bedpost and all, when someone knocks at the closed door. It is a timid knock, hardly heard above the silence, and Andromeda knows exactly who it is. "Enter, Cissy," she says with a smile, sitting up, and the door creaks open to reveal her nine-year-old sister fully-dressed in a snow-white coat and galoshes. _

Andromeda opens her eyes, trying to push her thoughts of Narcissa away, to the back of her brain, anywhere. She is no longer her sister, as Andromeda has cut ties with the Black family; therefore she is no longer a Black, no longer a pureblood fanatic like all the rest of them.

(Though she always will be.)

_"Andi, can you come out and look at the snow with me?" Narcissa pleads, holding her delicate, gloved hands together. Andromeda notices how perfect they are, in every curve and line, how the gloves are starched ever so neatly (elf's work, no doubt). _

_(Andromeda bites her nails, and her hands are pudgy and squat.)_

(Narcissa was always the perfect one)

She shuts her eyes tight, shunting away the image of her younger sister's hand, but another illustration floats into her mind – one when she was so much younger – possibly at four.

_"Come on, Andi!" _She sees the miniature, seven-year-old image of Bellatrix, the one with the beautiful dark eyes.

(Like a doe's.)

_Bella carefully pulls the cowering toddler from the porch, one step at a time, to finally sit at the bottom doorstep. (She was already like a little lady then, everyone praised.) She takes hold of Andromeda's chubby little hands, and puts them, gloves and all, upon the snowy ground. "Snow," she says calmly. "This is snow." "Shno." Andromeda repeats after her. "Yes," Bella smiles, dropping the child's hands, and packing a ball of snow, "And snow is perfect for… snow fights!" she hurls it lightly at Andi's left knee – it hits its mark and Andi keels over laughing, and searching for enough of that white, icy stuff to pack a snowball..._

_(They spend the rest of the afternoon chasing each other around, careless and free from Dark Lords and family ties.)_

Andromeda sighs, flipping over, placing her head under the musty cotton pillow.

_Druella gave her a bed made of phoenix feathers, complete with a phoenix-feather pillow and blanket for her eighth birthday. It felt like heaven, lying upon the soft mattress._

(She would never admit it, but living as a Tonks was rather difficult.)

She had lived seventeen years under her parents' roof – where they had gourmet delicacies and cocktail parties, silk dress robes and crystal high-heeled slippers – the best of everything.

"Christmas times," she murmurs dreamily, "With beautifully-decorated Christmas trees wrapped in silver tinsel and golden ornaments, an assortment of colourful presents hidden under the trees, apparating and disapparating themselves – so you had to catch them."

And she could remember no further than that.

The night passes, and when Andromeda wakes at five to hide her daughter's presents under their tree, she finds her husband sleeping peacefully beside her. Giving him a peck on the cheek, she proceeds to the living room, carrying a handful of boxes wrapped in Daily Prophet newspaper.

(It was still dark outside – no doubt the blackest night of all)

Under the green stick of a tree (in which Dora had adorned lavishly with newspaper rings and rags dyed different colours), she discovers a small lump, covered in paper, and addressed to: Mummy (Andi Tonks).

Smiling, she tears open the present – to discover a rainbow.

It is seven locks of hair – red, orange, yellow, green, blue, violet and pink – all in the brightest shade available. Inside there is a note:

_Dear Mum,_

_Merry Christmas! Every rainbow leads to a pot of gold. (Dad told me that.)_

_Love from Tonks._

_P.S. – The pink is to tick you off, so you don't come hug the life out of me._

(Even the blackest night has some light to it.)

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-Written for **Bonnidolle**'s (The Blackest Night) Challenge. 

Disclaimer: Andromeda Black/Tonks, Nymphadora Tonks, Santa Clause, Narcissa Black/Malfoy, Bellatrix Black/Lestrange, Ted Tonks, and mentions of rainbow legends don't belong to me (though I wish, with all my heart.)

The title is taken from a quote from **Eric Hoffer** (in which Gaby has graciously provided me with): _Children are the keys of paradise._ (which I do hope is true.)

Thanks to **Rabbi & Gaby** for betaing/helping. You guys are the best ;)

And **Rye**, of course you can have Sirius! Why not include it in the usual review threat? (This time, it's a bribe.)

(I should stop now, my "Author's Note" is getting too long for comfort.)

**Please leave a review - I'll give you Sirius! dangles Sirius in front of readers or Remus, whoever you fancy, really... (great, now I sound desperate. . )**


	3. to hell

to **Charli** (otherwise known as **Heiress** to the **Blacks**/_Acid Nickels_): _just to say_ there's a bit of **Roddie** in there:) (and more than that, _of course_)

_We are each our own devil, and we make this world our hell. - Oscar Wilde_

_Hell is other people. -Jean-Paul Sartre_

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_to_ **hell**.

The night is chilly but Bellatrix does not tremble in the slightest, as she rushes past alleys, past yowling black cats and rumpled beggars, sniffling haughtily.

(She has gone far past the red and green strings of light and pine trees.)

_The blackest night shall darken all souls, shall be the puppeteer of every good heart. All shall welcome oblivion, at the very end; it will be a mercy from the eternal hell of purest evil._

This is the blackest night, all right. Yet it was covered in a blanket of snow, snow so white it hurt her eyes. But Bellatrix has long forgotten her childhood, her family, and merely remembers this line. She enters the dark cavern, and strides confidently toward the eerie green light at the middle.

She brushes past a gift-holding Rodolphus, and toward the Dark Lord. "My Lord," she rasps, a gleeful smile illuminated in the emerald-green light, "It is done. The McKinnons are dead."

"Good, good," a high cold voice comes, "Your work will be rewarded."

"My Lord, no reward as high as your praise and honour-" Bellatrix begins, but Voldemort waves a hand dismissively, calling "Nott!"

A small, weedy-looking figure steps out from behind the shadows. "Yes, My Lord?" he addresses meekly, twiddling his thumbs and looking rather doubtful. "Bring Bellatrix to the central arena of the cavern." Nott obeys quickly – Bellatrix notes his efficiency and swiftness, then follows him over to what looked like a pot of liquid.

"The very finest," Voldemort smirks, and as Bellatrix paused, he continues, "I've conjured up Desiri. Look into the water, Bella, and tell me what your greatest desire may be."

Bellatrix obliges, and looks down at the potion. Its slow, bubbling black fluid immediately transforms.

_She hurls a snowball at little Andromeda, shrieking with laughter as the younger girl tries to pummel them back, but desperately failing, and giggling along with her elder sister._

_She sits there and watches Narcissa write, admiring her youngest sister's perfect fingers curve as beautiful calligraphy forms itself on the blank white parchment_

_She chats with her mother – really chatting, and not just arguing or cursing, or whatever they usually do nowadays, and they are smiling and chuckling, like old friends in Gryffindor or some other loser House. (Except she is not thinking that now.) And they wish each other a Merry Christmas, in the candlelight._

_And with her family, gazing at stars and snow and remembering Christmases with light and hope and joy._

These memories come flowing back in torrents, and she blinks away tears, and in order to not face her master, she turns her head left, allowing a curtain of sleek black hair to cover her heavy-lidded brown eyes.

_No, I can't do this._

Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Rodolphus skulking in the corner, still holding the wrapped present in his hands, a Merry Christmas held between his lips (it would never be said) and finally dropping it on the stone floor with a clang, resigned.

_She was so joyful that day they were married, she and Rodolphus, the day she became a Lestrange - it made everyone happy: her parents, the Lestrange parents, Rodolphus maybe - but that was before – but - now, master – what is joy? _

_(It is honour, from the Dark Lord, and the Dark Lord only.)_

She turns back to the pot, and looks down again, her eyes hard as granite, mouth set in a straight, grim line.

_She sees herself at Voldemort's knee, him smiling down at her, like he was God and she his loyal servant – him calling her his best, most faithful –_

_(No more Christmas and hope and light – she has gone too far-)_

And glances back at the hem of his robes.

(For this is where she truly belongs.)

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-Written for **Bonnidolle**'s (The Blackest Night) Challenge. 

Disclaimer: Bellatrix Black/Lestrange, dark caverns, Rodolphus Lestrange, the Dark Lord (aka Voldemort/You-no-poo), the McKinnons, Nott, the Black sisters' family (featuring Cygnus and Druella Black, Bellatrix, Andromeda, and Narcissa) belong to the great JKR. (And You-no-poo belongs to Fred and George.)

this title is taken from this famous quote (again, thanks to Gaby): _the path to hell is often paved with good intentions.,_

Thanks to **Rabbi & Gaby** for betaing/helping. huggles

(no bribe or threat this time, because I believe you already know what to do!)

**Leave a review please! ;) **


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